


Family Is A Six Letter Word

by phalangewrites



Category: Daredevil (TV), Luke Cage (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - The Castle Kids Live, Christmas, Construction Worker Frank Castle, Dating, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Female Reader, Heavy Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Violence, Miscarriage, Single Parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-09 06:44:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16444805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phalangewrites/pseuds/phalangewrites
Summary: Frank Castle, a single dad and construction worker, is dating Reader, a single woman and a waitress. Life, as always, goes on.





	Family Is A Six Letter Word

**Author's Note:**

> I'm such a sucker for Soft! Frank Castle. Like, I know he's the Punisher 'n all, but...he needs sum love.

You met Frank Castle three years after his wife died, when his friend Karen and your friend David decided that you both would go on a blind date together. Which, to be honest, is never a good idea.

You never expected David to match you with a widowed construction worker, especially since your type was mostly the homebody type. You worked nights at a twenty-four-hour diner, and the best feeling in the world was taking off your shoes after a shift and falling into the bath with a glass of something strong. Karen’s recommendation did not disappoint; Frank was a lovely man. He pulled out your chair for you at the coffee shop, listened when you talked, and, was handsome to boot. Perhaps that’s what made you want more. To know more behind the beard, the bearish tradesman.

The topic of children came up awkwardly on the third date. Halfway through the movie – your night off was Thursday, and he pulled some strings to make it to a showing of a Hollywood flick – he disappeared for a phone call. Come the credits, you thought nothing of it until his phone rang once more, vibrating loudly in his pocket when he leant in to kiss you.

Taking his phone out, you caught a peek of the caller I.D. To yourself, you whispered, “Who’s Lisa?”

“I thought I told her not to call again –,” Frank grumbled under his breath, wiping a hand over his beard. He didn’t answer your question, at least, not then, but with an apologetic smile, forwent the kiss, and exited the cinema once again to take the call.

Quietly, you followed him out, gathering the uneaten popcorn tin, and scattered rubbish you’d dropped. Heart low in your chest. You never said that any of these dates were exclusive, hell, you never knew what was going on in Frank’s mind. But you wondered if maybe Lisa was a more serious of a girlfriend, or a secretary at the construction place that he saw on the side. An old flame? Seriously hotter than you could ever hope to be?

“…how hard can it be to listen to Josie?” Frank grumbled into his phone. The dated Nokia looked ridiculously small in his large hands, and as he said the last goodbyes, he turned to you. Standing outside the cinema, the both of you lightly coated in flakes of snow that were so unseasonably November-esq, even though wintery December was coming fast. “Sorry.” He apologised, the gruffness of his previous tone dissipating. “ _Kids_.”

You blinked. “Lisa is your…daughter?” you wondered, somewhat bewildered.

He winced. “Sorry. I should have brought up the fact I have kids sooner, most people run before I even mention Frankie Jnr…”

You wave him off, feeling the sensation of relief slide down your spine like a welcomed chill. Or perhaps that was the wind? “Oh, don’t worry, Frank, I love kids. If I ever had the grades, I would’ve gone into childcare. No, I thought Lisa was a, uh…woman.”

Frank quickly puts two and two together, “Oh! No. No, I’d never – I thought we were – what do the kids call it…going steady?”

“In the 80s.” you replied. “I think you mean being serious. Honestly, Frank, you’re the nicest man – and I mean it, since David has put me on _many_ horrid dates – I’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing a terrible movie with.”

The eighth date, well, wasn’t a date. It was a coincidence.

You were at work, slaving away for your hard-earned money at the diner, making sure to do the dinner dash as effectively as possible. The holidays were fast around the corner, and while you never said no to a stranger coming in for a hot cup of coffee, perhaps some soup of the day, you sometimes wished this end of the year wasn’t so busy. But hey, it payed your bills, and that was what counted.

It was almost half past seven when you saw Frank walk in, and when the half hour came, you were off. He had traded his lighter flannel shirts for a jacket of the same print. You were about to say hi, despite being on the clock under your boss’s watchful gaze when you realised that he had company. A young girl, about fifteen, and, boy, perhaps seven. Quickly, you punched out before your boss could say no, and gathered your coat.

But before you could sneak out from the back, Frank spied you. “Hey, _________.” Frank gave you a half wave.

You’re somewhat unsure of what to do – you hadn’t had a chance to prepare for meeting the Castle kids. It’s most certainly too late to pretend you haven’t seen him yet, so, you walk over. “Hey, Frank.” You beam, pretending that nothing’s bothering you at all.

“Finishing?” he asked you.

“Yeah, can’t wait to get home – my feet are _aching_.” You emphasise the last bit, hoping that he’ll take a hint and let you run away and _then_ practice how to introduce yourself to his kids. “Sorry, I –,”

At that same moment, he says, “Can you join us for a bite?” he asks, his curls hitting the LED light in the right way that they shine. His kids look to him, somewhat unsure. “If that isn’t a trouble.”

You can’t say no to Frank on a good day. “If I’m not imposing, I’m sure –,”

“Who are you?” Frank Jr. interrupts, straight to the point. “Why are you inviting a waitress to dinner, Dad?”

Lisa elbows him in the side. “Shush, she’s probably a friend of Dad’s.”

“Of course.” He says, ignoring the banter between Lisa and Frank.

A co-worker of yours leads you all to a table, and you are sure next time you’re on shift with them, they won’t shut up about it. Sliding into a window booth, you all settle in, peek at the menu, bite at fingernails, but when the waiter returns, Frank orders straight off the bat, without a look at the menu.

“Black coffee, and a hamburger.” He says. He looks to his kids, and adds, “What’ll it be, Lisa? Frank?”

“Cheese fries,” Frank Jr. says, his tone sounding quite to the point. “And a Sprite?” he looks to his father.

“Water.” Frank tells the waiter.

“Um, could I please have the lasagne?” Lisa says, politely folding the menu up as she speaks. “and a water for me too, please.”

“_________?” Frank asks you, glancing your way.

You smile to your co-worker. “Just a Caesar salad, thanks.” You say.

As the waiter walks away, a little silence fills the air, and, before Frank can mediate between you and his son, the child blurts out what you’re sure that both kids are thinking, “Who even are you?”

You pale somewhat, but, looking to Frank, you feel a swell of confidence inside your chest. “I’m sure you know David Lieberman, I mean, your Uncle Dave?” you begin, starting small. “Well, I’m his sister in law, Sarah’s sister. And since the accident – um, well, he wanted me to get out more.”

“So, Karen said the same thing to me, about two months ago.” Frank added, steering the story away from you – to which you’re quite glad of. You don’t like to talk about the accident. “Which sounded weird, don’t you think?”

“I guess,” Lisa replied, scratching idly at the table with a finger.

“Wait.” Frank Jr. interrupts, tone unwavering, as if he’s about to lay a full house of cards in a poker game. “You and _________ are together?”

You nod, but Frank replies. “Got a problem with your old man finding love, Frankie?” he asks his son, and at that, he reaches over the table to muss his son’s hair. “_________ and me have been dating for a while, and I guess tonight we’re telling you.”

“That’s cool,” Lisa replies. She looks to you, and you smile at her. “So, are you a waitress?” she wonders.

You nod, and, as the night went on, so many more questions were asked, answered and deliberated between the four of you. But one more had been spoken - that there was no fear required in the process of meeting the Castle kids. Even if Frank Jr. was apprehensive about it in the beginning, even he too warmed up to you and the idea of his father with someone else.

Come Christmas day and you’re breaking into a sweat working in your apartment. Trying to clean up all your mess, decorating like there’s no tomorrow, because in this instance, tomorrow doesn’t matter.

Frank hadn’t had any plans for the Castle family for the holidays, just him off work until the snow cleared enough to work again, Lisa and Frank growing more and more stir crazy in their house, and then, _bam_! You get a call from him, asking if you’re able to host Christmas for all of you. His exact words.

Which would have been fine, if you were festive in the slightest.

Even with your old decorations strung up, the tree decorated just enough to look like it wasn’t a rushed job, a frozen turkey in the oven, you’re still stressed as hell. You can’t help thinking it isn’t enough - but still, Frank and the kids ring at the buzzer downstairs, right on cue, and you let them through. Frank Jr runs in, rushes a hello through a probable sugar rush of Christmas chocolates, and hooks up a game that he says Uncle Dave gave him. Next, at a regular pace comes Lisa, carrying a few presents in her arms, and, wishing you a merry Christmas, she sets them under your tree by the T.V.

You expect Frank next, but you’re shocked to see David and your sister, and surprised, you receive their hugs and kisses in stunned silence. “I don’t think I made enough food,” you admit, but Sarah produces a carry bag at your words.

“Stocked full, with all the things the kids like.” She beams, kissing your cheek, moving toward your apartment’s kitchen. “Don’t have to worry at all, little sister.”

“And I’ve got the good stuff,” David confides, pulling out a bottle of red from his hamper.

After Sarah comes her kids, who join Frank Jr with his new game, eager to play. You watch as Lisa hooks up the extra controllers to the game system, too, all of them devoid of fighting. You’re still somewhat shocked about the flurry of activity around you. It’s strange, having people around for the holidays - it’s usually just you alone, blasting a regular album of Michael Bublé, making grilled cheese and falling asleep by eight.

 _“_ Where’s Frank?” you look to David for an answer, but he shrugs in response.

“Must be still on his way up.” He says, plating up some potato salad into a serving bowl of yours. Trust him to know where all your things were. “We all came together in the van.”

But when you open your door, ready to see if the footsteps approaching the apartment you could hear were your boyfriend, you are met with more people you didn’t expect. Karen and her partner Matt are there instead, them both wearing lumpy, abhorrent Christmas sweaters. The blonde grins, and hands you a little present. “Sorry for gate crashing your Christmas gig, Matt and I got a call, and well, we had nothing much planned.”

“I wonder when Frank would have invited _me_ to Christmas at my own house,” you muse, somewhat amused.

“Classic Frank,” Matt agrees, chuckling.

A beat passes between you, and you come to your senses, stepping from the doorway. “Come on in!” you say, and Karen and Matt navigate their way past the threshold, Matt’s cane hitting Lisa’s discarded converse shoes. “The kids have the T.V., so if you were hoping to catch anything live, try wrestling with the four of them.”

As your guests settle in, you can’t help but wonder what had come over Frank when he invited everyone. He was a quiet man, one who preferred to watch the football in the comfort of his own home, or in that of his favourite bar. He worked hard and, loved harder. You’d only known him for so long, but it felt like you were a Castle now.

From down the hall, you could hear a whine. Like a small child, aching for warmth, or a squeaky door. It was strange you could hear it over the din of your friends over for Christmas, but still, you heard it. With a frown, you opened the front door once more, pacing down the hallway to the stairwell.

“Shush, shush,” you heard the timbre of Frank’s voice intone, before you saw him.

Before you could wonder just what that he was _shush_ ing, you saw him, walking around the final flight of stairs. From where you stood, you paused, your breath caught in your throat. His beard had been trimmed from ‘mountain man’ to ‘DILF’ - and clinging to the muscles acquired through labour at his job in construction, was a plaid shirt the colour of Christmas. Your mouth ran dry at the sight of your boyfriend - if you didn’t have your sister and David, Karen and Matt, and the kids over, you’d drag him into your bedroom for purely the sight of him. But alas, you did have guests, so fantastic sex with your boyfriend would have to wait.

He swore at the sight of you and held the bundle in his arms tighter. “_________!” he said, aghast. “You’re not supposed to see this.”

“What, Frank, you looking fine as hell?” you asked. The bundle in his arms whined once more, and you frowned. “What is…?”

He closes the distance between the both of you, climbing the last flight of stairs with the ambling ease of a man with thighs like his. As he nears, you watch as the bundle shifts, and wriggling out from the dull white towel, is a -

“There was a litter found at the site last week,” he says, passing you the bundle. A small dog, so small that when you gather it in your arms, it feels like a newborn baby, or a child’s plushie. “The other dogs found homes, but this one…”

“Oh my god, Frank,” you whisper, enamoured. “Don’t tell me -,”

He kisses your cheek, his beard ghosting over your skin, his arm draped around your back, keeping you warm. You hold the puppy close to your heart, and “Frankie named him Max three days after we brought him in, and it stuck…if you want to change it, I’m sure he won’t mind.”

You pause mid-step. _Max_. It’s a trigger word. Suddenly, the euphoria of Frank and the new dog comes crashing down, and you can’t breathe. Your eyes are dry, and then they are wet with tears, and Frank watches, hopeless.

“Baby?” he says. His arms are around you, and slowly, you look to him, his face wavy through the cascade of tears. “_________, baby tell me what’s wrong.”

“You - you know I had an accident, right?” you whisper. Your voice is so quiet that it’s hard for even you to hear, and you spoke the words. Frank nods, mute. Max nuzzled into your chest, perhaps too sleepy to care that your chest was echoing with hurt. “and it took forever to make me feel human again.”

“You don’t have to talk ‘bout it if you don’t want to,” Frank assures you.

“I think you’ve met Matt’s friend, Claire? She’s a triage nurse and she drinks more coffee than you.” You say silly details, focusing on them. “I’ve known her for years, but when she and her husband were trying for kids, they couldn’t…it was fertility problem, I didn’t understand it. They needed a surrogate, and well, it’s hard saying no to someone who’s like a sister to you.”

“_________…” Frank whispered, holding you closer.

You shook your head, wriggling out from his embrace. “I’m fine, Frank, really. It’s been a couple of years.” You tell him. “I just hate holding it in like it’s a dirty secret. It’s not! It - it - was seven months in when I got attacked. He didn’t like that I only had a twenty and a Subway gift card, and he,” you pass Max to him, and you lift up to your jumper to show the marbled scar of stretchmarks and a healed wound, “stabbed me.”

“Was his name Max?” Frank asked, voice low.

You shook your head. “No,” you replied. “Claire and Luke had already named the baby. Max Cage.” Frank swore. But you placed a hand on his chest, taking the small dog named Max back, and placed a kiss on his cheek. “It happened so long ago, I’m fine.” You chuckled, holding little Max closer. “You know, to be honest, it’s nice to finally have a Max in my arms.”

“Happy holidays,” Frank tells you, voice warm against your neck. You can read Frank’s words - _happy holidays_ sound just like three words you love to hear from his lips, and as you thought that, he kissed your neck.

But the moment is cut short, because the door to your apartment opens, and David’s head sticks out into the hallway. “Have you got any mayonnaise -,” he starts to say, and, seeing the both of you standing so close, cuts himself off, and closes the door.

“Want to join the party, Castle?” you ask, holding Max closer to your chest.

His arm slung around your waist, pulling you close to his body heat. “It’s always a party with you, _________.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you have any requests, find me on Tumblr at @susiephalange, or [@phalangewrites](https://phalangewrites.tumblr.com/request_conditions) ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ✿


End file.
